


Selfish

by shirotora-san (behindtintedglass)



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: F/M, Non-Linear Narrative, introspective piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9616262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/shirotora-san
Summary: "The hardest part of walking away from you is knowing that you won't run after me."A childhood lesson. Letting go. And holding on.





	1. Irony

**Author's Note:**

> Written on April 18, 2008. Publishing here for archiving purposes.

_I see him everyday, and I always see him for the first time._

When I was a child, I would always accompany my mother to the market whenever she did her weekly shopping. It was my ultimate, simplest joy – I would hold her hand tightly as we weaved in and out of the crowded, noisy streets, and my young, giddy self would be overwhelmed by the dazzling sights that played before my eyes. Just as I inherited my father's love of the sword, I inherited my mother's love of colors. She was an artist in her own right – an authentic Japanese woman in every sense of the word. She mastered every skill and art demanded of a traditional house wife – she arranged flowers, she did embroidery and she was an expert cook.

What I loved the most about her, though, was her skill with the brush. She loved to paint and draw, and her calligraphy was so moving the words seemed to come alive on paper. And she had a trained eye when it came to colors. She knew what colors blended together and she knew what colors clashed; she knew how to mix different hues and she knew how to bring out a certain shade in the landscapes she painted.

I was never particularly fond of this art – I would rather have a bokken in my hands than a measly old paintbrush. I cannot deny, however, that I shared my mother's love of colors – although it manifested in a different manner. My body was my paper, and the different hues of silk that made up the kimonos I wore were my paint. And just as my mother would immerse herself in the pleasure of mixing different colors to paint her pictures, I would lose myself in the joy of blending the different colors of silk that brushed against my skin.

My father never understood this passion my mother and I had with colors. It was probably the only thing I had in common with her, aside from the love we had for my father. It was probably the closest I would ever get into being a true-blooded Japanese woman.

_As the fireflies gently illuminate the melancholy darkness of the river, the memory of my mother dances before my eyes, fading in and out of view in time with the glowing light._

_It is strange how I remember her tonight, of all nights._

My mother would always have this knowing smile on her face whenever we'd venture into town. She would lead me through the route that would make us pass by the dress stalls, and she would always wait for me patiently as I'd stop and marvel at each and every item of clothing being displayed. Whenever my eye picked out a particularly endearing color combination, I would turn to her with pleading eyes, and she would laugh at me and nod encouragingly at what I am about to do. And I would squeal with glee and immediately try the kimono on, and my mother would watch me appreciatively as I modeled the clothing in front of her.

However, whenever I would get particularly attached to a certain kimono, my mother would gently lay a hand on arm and slowly shake her head. And I would sigh sadly and take the kimono off, and I would return it to the merchant with a quiet thank you. Even though we were better off than most people, my family had never been particularly wealthy. Both my father and my mother were generous people, but they also taught me the value of money – and the importance of saving it. That is why I never complained, even as my young heart yearned for those silken colors. Even as a little girl, I never spent beyond my means. I knew when to pursue what I wanted, and I knew when to let it go.

Except for that one kimono.

_The faint sound of rushing water reaches my ears, whispering to me, reminding me his promise to watch the fireflies with me._

_I stand there beside the river and wait. He will come. As sure as the sun will rise the next day, he will come._

I remember a time in midsummer when I was around six years old. I went with my mother inside a particular store as she searched for a new kimono. She wanted something special to wear and show my father, for their wedding anniversary was drawing near. As she busied herself with trying on different kimonos and bargaining with the shop owner, I drifted towards the other displays, my eyes automatically attuning to the different colors and patterns.

It was then that I saw it.

The kimono was folded neatly at the topmost shelf behind the counter. It was the most unusual shade of crimson, seemingly out of place among the blues and greens and violets that surrounded it. I walked towards it, mesmerized by the intricate patterns of gold embroidered on the silk. I remember staring at it for a long time until my mother took hold of my hand and told me we were leaving. She grinned and showed me the kimono she bought – it was a beautiful shade of jade, with long-necked white swans floating around the hem and bamboo stalks shooting up the bodice. She was an artist in her own right, and she chose a kimono worthy of her skill. And judging by the way her face glowed as we headed back home, I could tell she was proud of her purchase.

In my eyes, however, it was nowhere near as enchanting as that kimono on the topmost shelf behind the counter, half-hidden among the blues and greens and violets that surrounded it.

_I see him everyday, and I always see him for the first time._

_I wonder… will tonight be the last?_

Slowly, gradually, I found myself becoming obsessed with that kimono. Every week I would return to that shop and simply stand there to gaze at that silken material until my neck would hurt from looking up too long. And every week I would find myself fascinated with a new discovery about it. I would realize that the embroidered design was actually golden vines that snaked its way up and around the bodice. I would realize that these vines had blossoms of purple flowers dotted here and there. I would realize that within the shade of the shop, the color of the kimono darkened almost to that of blood. I would realize that when the sun streamed in through the windows, the color of the kimono would change into that of a blazing fire, dangerous and warm to the touch.

" _The fireflies are beautiful tonight."_

I would see that kimono every week, but each time it seemed like I was seeing it for the first time.

" _Kenshin!"_

And slowly, gradually, obsession became desire. I wantedthat kimono for myself. There was no reason, no logic, only a powerful emotion that overrode all rational thought.

_His sandals gently scrape the ground as he steps out of the shadows. He has always been beautiful, but tonight, under the soft glow of the fireflies' light, he is exquisite. Almost otherworldly. Unreachable. Unattainable._

I  _wanted_ it. And I vowed to myself that I would never let this kimono go.

_His eyes meet mine, and I whisper his name, a familiar feeling of fear and anguish creeping into my heart._

But I did.

* * *

Training with my father began to occur more often, and my regular trips to the market with my mother became less frequent. I missed seeing all the colors – training with my father consisted of boring blues and whites and blacks and grays – but most of all, I missed my mother. So whenever my father allowed a bit of leniency in our tight schedule, I would immediately grab the opportunity to rush to my mother's side. I would reach for the familiar comfort of her hand as we exit our compound, and she would smile down at me as we walk side by side down a familiar route. The knowing look would always be present in her eyes. She knew just where to take me.

" _Governor Okubo was assassinated this morning."_

My mother knew me in a way no one else did. She knew I fell in love with that kimono the moment that I saw it.

" _Yes… I know that."_

We would enter the shop, and my eyes will immediately stray behind the counter to the one thing that kept me coming back. My mother would let go of my hand as I'd walk over to the shelves and gaze at that crimson piece of silk folded neatly among the blues and greens and violets that surrounded it. I would always stand on tiptoe and raise my chubby hands to try and reach for it, and to my delight, I would find myself a bit taller with each recurring visit. The kimono would always seem nearer each time - near enough to touch, to hold, to have. Almost, but not quite.

" _It was done by Shishio and his henchmen."_

It was never near enough.

" _I can't leave Shishio alone now."_

Because no matter how hard I try, the shelves were just too high. The kimono would always be out of my reach.

" _I'm going to Kyoto."_

The frustration mounted inside me until that fateful day when I was eight years old. My mother and I visited that shop for what I didn't know would be the last time. Before I even realized I was doing it, I had walked over to those shelves behind the counter. It was automatic, almost instinctive. I reached for that kimono once more, and to my pleasant surprise, my fingers brushed against the fine silk. I seemed to have grown a couple of centimeters since our last visit. I could barely keep my excitement under control as I jumped up and grabbed a fistful of that cloth.

" _Kyoto…"_

I realized then that I didn't know the extent of my own strength. The combined force of my jump and the added weight sent all the contents of that shelf crashing down upon me, and for a moment, I was buried under a flurry of blues and greens and violets as the kimonos fell on top of my head. My arms flailed helplessly about as my mother rushed to my side in a panic and pulled me out of the mess I had created. Her eyes contained equal parts worry and admonishment as she helped me dust myself off. I blinked and stared down at my hands, and slowly, a smile crept across my childish features.

I finally had it. The kimono was in my hands.

" _Back to that time…"_

I felt like I was going to burst from the happiness that bubbled inside me. I rushed over to the nearest mirror and held the kimono up for inspection. It was many sizes too large for me – it was, after all, a kimono fit for a young woman. My eyes were wide and bright as my gaze roved over the silken material, and I can distinctly remember how I stopped breathing for a moment as I let its splendor wash over me. The crimson kimono was beautiful beyond words – almost painfully so.

It was then that I made my decision.

" _Back to how you were ten years ago?"_

I heard my mother sigh behind me. "Is that red kimono still for sale?"

"… _I don't know."_

I whirled around and stared at her in surprise, but it turned out that she was talking to the shop owner. The old woman shrugged. "I've been trying to sell that thing for a long time now. No one wanted it."

" _For the past ten years, I have fought to keep myself from becoming Battousai."_

"They said that it was too expensive, and the color was too exotic."

" _However, that battle with Saitou really taught me something."_

"The price was too high for something so strange."

" _Deep within me, there is a vicious manslayer who will never change."_

My gaze dropped to the kimono I held. My small hands tightened around it.

" _But you were able to go back to normal soon afterwards! No matter how close you get to the Battousai, you are yourself, Kenshin!"_

"I see," I heard my mother murmur.

" _A rurouni who doesn't kill…"_

I was still staring at my hands when I felt her gentle touch on my shoulder. "Kaoru-chan," she said softly. "I promise I'll save enough money for that kimono. By the time your next birthday comes around…"

Her hands, soft and smooth and free of the calluses I have now, gently tilted my face up so I could see her smile at me. "You can be sure of what gift you'll be receiving from me."

" _When I first met you, Kaoru-dono, you told me that you didn't care about my past."_

She was waiting for me to answer, but I did not.

"… _I was happy about that."_

Instead, I dropped my gaze and, without a word, I walked towards the old woman who owned the shop.

" _Day after day, I continued to rest my soul, and I really felt that I could become a normal swordsman."_

With a solemn bow that was unbecoming of the small child I was then, I returned the kimono to its owner.

" _Thank you for everything."_

"Kaoru-chan?" The confusion was apparent in my mother's voice.

" _Sessha wa rurouni. I must be wandering again."_

"It's okay, okaa-san." And with a smile that veiled the sadness that settled over my young heart, I raised my eyes to meet hers. "I don't want it anymore."

"… _Sayonara."_

* * *

He is the perfect epitome of a true swordsman. He is always on alert for any impending danger that might befall upon him, ready to defend himself from those who are trying to hurt him – and the people he is fighting to protect. Therefore, in order to protect those people, he has to protect himself. He cannot afford to be weak. That is why he makes his defense impenetrable.

His strongest defense, however, does not come in any way from the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu. It comes from inside him, from the walls he erects around himself to protect the vulnerable man within. His strongest defense lies within the goofy grin of the rurouni and the fierce eyes of the hitokiri. Battousai keeps people away with his sword; the rurouni, with his smile. The rurouni is his first line of defense; Battousai, his second.

A swordsman only lets his defenses down when he knows that the danger has passed. He drops his guard only when he knows that there is no enemy around to hurt him, when he knows that he is in the presence of the people he trusts – of the people he loves.

And that is how I knew, when he took me in is arms that night…

" _Thank you for everything."_

I knew without a doubt that he loves me.

" _Day after day, I continued to rest my soul."_

It wasn't the action itself. An embrace was simply that – an action, a physical closeness, and nothing more. But this… this was pure sacrifice on his part. He forced himself to be strong, to be brave, to step out of those walls he erected around himself for so long and bare himself in all his vulnerability… to me.

" _And I really felt…"_

The rurouni never would have done something so bold. But the hitokiri wouldn't have been so gentle about it either.

"… _that I could become a normal swordsman."_

The man who held me that night was neither the rurouni I met nor the hitokiri he once was. The man who held me that night was the man inside that impenetrable wall of bumbling antics and vicious threats of murder. A man who deliberately stripped his defenses down for that one moment to hold me.

" _You are yourself!"_

There were many reasons why I cried that night. The irony of that moment was one of them.

" _I must be wandering again."_

I never met Himura Kenshin until he said goodbye.

* * *

There is only one other instance when a swordsman lets his defense crumble. It is only when he finally loses the strength to fight, when he has no other choice but to surrender. He places his life in the hands of the people left to catch him – ally or enemy, it does not even matter. When a swordsman finally tires and wants to stop fighting, it does not matter how his suffering will end or who will end it – it only matters that someone  _will._

He surrendered himself to me that night, trusting that I will hold him in his weakest, most vulnerable state.

But I didn't. My arms remained frozen at my sides, even as my body trembled with the tears I tried and failed to stop from falling.

I could not hold him. I  _shouldn't_. Because if I did, he would stay. Deep in my heart, I knew that if I held him that night, he never would have left my side. And I wanted him to leave. Oh, how I wanted him to leave, even if it slowly kills me inside. Because I don't want to be selfish anymore.

I saw the truth in his eyes. I heard the truth in the slow footsteps he made. I felt the truth in the almost desperate way he pressed my body so intimately against his.

He did not want to leave any more than I wanted to be left behind.

The calmness of his voice when he spoke or the dignity of his stance as he moved did not fool me. He was not as confident about his decision as he showed himself to be. He should've just left me. He should've just left us all. We would be hurt, we would be angry, but in the long run, we would understand. The petty emotions of a handful of people in Tokyo were insignificant compared to the cries of the millions of people all over Japan who will suffer under the vicious rule of a man resurrected from the flames of the Bakumatsu.

The threat of Shishio Makato and his Juppon Gatana taking over Japan was a national crisis that needed to be acted upon immediately. One could not afford to waste time, not even to spare a moment to fulfill a promise made to watch the fireflies on the evening of May 14th.

Why did he have to fulfill his promise to me?

Out of respect for his landlady? Maybe. But if proper etiquette and decorum was all it was, he could've just left a letter. Or he could've just sent one from Kyoto when he arrives. It was more formal, more proper – and all the more easier for us all if he simply wrote his farewell.

Because he is an honorable man who keeps his word? Perhaps. And indeed, it was a touching thought and gesture. But even Saitou will agree that it was also incredibly stupid. After all, what is a promise made to one woman compared to the fate of an entire country?

Perhaps he himself isn't aware of this. And even I deny this to myself until now. But somewhere deep within us, we both knew the real reason why he came to me that night.

He wanted me to stop him from leaving.

He is not a selfish person like me. He knew what needed to be done. He is too kind, too noble, and too strong – he would not allow the people to suffer before his eyes, not while he can still wield a sword in his hands. He knew the call of duty when it came – he was indebted to his country as much as his countrymen were indebted to him. And he knew the price of that duty – one that he is all too willing to sacrifice for the greater good of all.

He is willing to give up his own happiness.

I am not blind. And neither is Sanosuke, Yahiko or Megumi. And even he can't fool Tae or Tsubame, or Genzai-sensei and his granddaughters. We can all clearly see the happiness in his eyes when he is with us – when he is here, in Tokyo, the Kamiya dojo, our home. This call of duty wasn't something he was happy about, not when he has to leave us to fulfill it. He may be a lot of things, but he is not a hypocrite. He knew what needed to be done, but it wasn't what he  _wanted_.

He wanted to stay here with us. With me.

That is why he came to me that night. He needed a reason to stay. He needed  _me_ to be selfish for  _him._

I followed him when he left to fight Jin-ei. I held onto him when he was about to fight Saitou. I did not want to lose him, and that is why I followed him, stopped him, called out to him, clung to him. I did not care about any other consequences – I simply wanted to be with him. I didn't want to lose him. I was  _selfish_.

And he came to me that night, expecting me,  _wanting_  me to be just as selfish as I was before. And I could've very well stopped him too. I could've asked him to stay, and he would've never left, and we wouldn't have even cared if Japan burned under the fury of Shishio's power.

I could've held him, if only he didn't hold me first.

There were many reasons why I cried that night. The irony of that moment was one of them.

If only he didn't hold me, then I wouldn't have known the man behind the goofy grin and the fierce eyes. I wouldn't have known who Himura Kenshin was. And I wouldn't have known that this Himura Kenshin is what Japan needed… much more than I ever will.

He didn't leave us. I was the one who made him leave. Not because I pushed him away. Not because I pulled away from him. But simply because I did not ask him to stay.

I did not hold him.

And I cried, because I wanted to.

_I'm sorry, Kenshin… but I just don't want to be selfish anymore._

I could see it in the way he would not look at me. I could feel it in the way his arms wavered ever so slightly when, after a moment and forever, he finally let me go.

He came to me that night because he needed me to give him that happiness he wanted. He was not a selfish man. He wasn't asking for much.

And I cried, because I couldn't give it to him.

_I'm sorry, Kenshin. But perhaps it is still not the time and place for you, or even for me, to be happy. Not when there are still too many people more worthy of you than I am._

And even as he walked away, I could still hear it in the way he never hurried. He kept his footsteps slow and deliberate, loud enough for me to hear.

He was waiting for me to run after him. Just as I have always done before. And I cried because this time, I wouldn't stop him from leaving. This time, I wouldn't follow him, call out to him, or cling to him.

I want to be with him. More than anything in the world, I  _want_ to be with him. But this time… I'm willing to lose him.

_I'm sorry, Kenshin, if I can only apologize to you in my mind. I'm too busy trying to keep the sobs from escaping my throat, because I know that if you heard me you will immediately run back and hold me in your arms once more, and we both know that this time, you won't let me go._

There were many reasons why I cried that night. The irony of that moment was one of them.

He left, wanting to stay. And I stayed, wanting him to leave.

_I'm sorry, Kenshin. I really, truly am. But I just don't want to be selfish anymore._

* * *

"Kaoru-chan?"

Startled out of her thoughts, the little girl blinked and looked up towards the source of the voice. "What is it, okaa-san?"

Her mother stared worriedly down at her. "You've been quiet ever since we left that shop." She grasped her daughter's hand more tightly. "Are you all right?"

The little girl smiled and nodded. "Yes, of course."

The concern did not disappear from her mother's eyes. They were walking down the usual alley where the clothing stalls were, but her daughter did not even spare a glance at them.

How could she ignore something she loved so much?

"Kaoru-chan," said her mother after a while. "I was just wondering…"

The little girl cocked her head to one side. "About what?"

Her mother pressed her lips together before she spoke. "Why don't you want that kimono anymore?"

Surprised, the little girl stopped in her tracks. "The… the kimono?" she repeated timidly.

Her mother knelt down and gently stroked the little girl's hair. "I know you too well, Kaoru-chan. Even though you never told me, I knew you wanted that kimono. You wanted it ever since we came to that shop two years ago." Her eyebrows creased as she carefully grasped her daughter's arm. "Why don't you want it now?"

The normally boisterous child surprised her mother by speaking so softly. "It's too beautiful."

Her mother blinked in confusion. "Too… beautiful?"

"Hai," said the little girl as she looked down at herself. Her chubby little hands ran over the frayed material of her worn gi – a type of clothing unfit for a girl. She had been practicing with her father that morning, and she could already see the first marks of a lifetime's worth of calluses on her palms. "I realized it when I held the kimono up to the mirror to see if it would suit me. And I realized that I was too ugly to wear something that was made for a princess."

"Don't say that," came her mother's voice, gentle but firm. "And you  _are_  a princess, Kaoru." Her fingers, soft and smooth and so unlike those of her daughter's, tenderly slipped underneath the little girl's chin and tilted her face up so that their gazes met. "You are  _our_  little hime-chan."

Her hime-chan only smiled and shook her head. "There are prettier girls out there, okaa-san. It wouldn't do for someone so ordinary like me to wear something so… so unique and special and precious like that kimono."

The little girl gently fingered the sleeves of the kimono her mother wore. It was the same jade kimono they bought from the shop two years ago for her parents' anniversary. "You told me once before that a work of art should be judged by the heart of the artist who made it. And for some reason, even though I never knew who made that red kimono…"

She reached up and clasped a hand over her heart. "Somehow… I felt that the artist created that kimono for a much higher purpose." A small smile appeared on her face. "There are other girls out there who probably have every reason to buy such a rare kimono like that. It might be something that they really need. While I…" Her voice turned soft, almost guilty. "I sought that kimono… just because it was something that I wanted." She looked up to meet her mother's startled gaze. "That would just be too selfish of me, wouldn't it?"

"Kaoru…"

"And what's more, those girls will be able to show the true beauty of that kimono to the world." She chuckled softly, a sound of happy indifference, but only her mother heard the tiniest hint of bitterness camouflaged in that sound. "Because if that kimono falls into the hands of a girl like me, who will always be hidden in the dojo and following my father's path of the sword that protects life… that kimono will be hidden in the shadows along with me. And it wouldn't be fair for such a beautiful piece of art to be in shadows, ne, okaa-san?"

Her mother's eyes widened.

"It really is such a beautiful kimono," the little girl continued as she casually shrugged her shoulders. "But I have no regrets in letting it go. I know it will serve a much better purpose than to be owned by someone like me."

And her mother could only watch in awe as the brightest, truest smile she had ever seen appeared on Kamiya Kaoru's face.

"It's okay, okaa-san. I just don't want to be selfish anymore."

 


	2. Worth

The little girl stared at the gift for a long moment. Her eyes were full of unspoken questions as she met the gaze of the giver.

Her mother smiled down at her. "Happy birthday, Kaoru-chan," she said softly.

The little girl shook her head. "Okaa-san, I don't—"

Her mother didn't give her a chance to finish. "You can't tell me you don't want it." A playful smirk crossed her normally benign features. "Because we both know you do."

The little girl's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as she tried to come up with an appropriate protest. When her mother raised her eyebrows challengingly, the little girl pressed her lips together and countered, "But then I still I don't—"

"And you can't tell me you don't need it either, because we don't know if that really is true. I can't prove that you do, but neither can you prove that you don't." Her mother's eyes twinkled in amusement. "As your father always says, needs are arbitrary. Priorities change over time. You don't know when you might need it."

The little girl scowled. Her mother knew that she had always respected and followed her father's words. Her mother also knew how to use that knowledge to her advantage, strengthening her side of the argument. Sighing in defeat, the little girl dropped her gaze to the opened package in her lap.

Slowly, hesitantly, she ran her hands over the silken material. It was as soft as she remembered. Her fingers then followed the trail of golden vines that seemed to dance with the shadows that the flickering flames the lantern inside her room made. She gathered a fistful of the cloth and held it up to the light. The crimson fabric seemed to suddenly ignite and blaze, as if she was holding fire in her hands, only it wasn't burning her. She loosened her hold on it, and the fabric clung to her fingers before it dropped back to her lap, as if it was unwilling to let her go.

She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. She had seen it so many times before, but she couldn't remember a time when it had been this mesmerizing. In the dim, gentle lighting, the unassuming beauty of the small, purple blossoms seemed to stand out from the intricate skill of gold and the glaring color of fire and blood. A small smile played on her lips. It was both a wonder and an irony that she was rediscovering much more about something she loved in shadow than in sunlight.

"It's a beautiful kimono, isn't it?"

The little girl blinked as her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. She shook her head and placed the package on the floor between them. "Too beautiful," she murmured. "It's not that I'm not thankful, okaa-san, because I am. I really am. It's just that…" she trailed off as she took a deep breath and bravely met her mother's eyes. "It's just that I can't help but wonder why you still bought this for me when I already said I didn't want it."

Her mother stared at her for a long time, and the little girl fidgeted in her seat, worried that she might have somehow offended her mother. Unable to take the silence anymore, the little girl opened her mouth to apologize, but was once again cut off with a soft chuckle from the older woman.

"Kaoru-chan, we both know you don't mean that. You might as well stop denying it, because you're a very bad liar."

" _Okaa-san!"_

Her mother laughed. "You know, you look exactly like your father when you're annoyed like that. You even glare at me in exactly the same way." The scowl on her daughter's face deepened, and she reached out to ruffle her hair affectionately. "This isn't about what you want, hime-chan. It's not even about what you need."

The little girl furrowed her brows. "Then what is this all about?"

Her mother smiled, and the fire's glow was reflected in her knowing eyes. "It's about the kimono's worth."

* * *

He always hated the color red.

It was the color of the scorching midday sun in the middle of drought, and the color of the parched and dying leaves of the plants in the fields where his family worked as farmers.

It was the color of fire that burned from the torches of the shogun's soldiers, and the color of the flames that burned down the houses of the families who oppose the Bakufu, eating at their bodies and homes and dreams of the future.

It was the color of human skin, raw and abused and misused by work and sickness, and the color of the bloodshot eyes of his siblings when they cried at the deathbed of their parents as they succumbed to a death more peaceful than life.

It was the color of blood that rained over the caravan of slaves, the color of the soil soaked with death as he dug up their graves, the color of the three stones he found to mark the bodies exchanged for his life, the color of his tired and tainted and dirty hands after all that he did.

It was the color of blood that rained over the streets of Kyoto, the color of mutilated bodies and rotting corpses, the color of his cheek as it bled from a wound inflicted on him by a nameless man of no admirable talent except a strong will to live.

It was the color of blood tainting a haunting beauty that stood amidst that rain of blood, the color of his vision when she had been taken from him and found he had been betrayed, the color of the ribbon in her hair that came loose when her body came between his enemy and his sword.

It was the color of blood tainting the pristine white snow that surrounded them as he held her in his arms and the cold froze her smile and her tears. It was the color of the wound that completed the scar that would mark him for life. And it was the color of the thread that bound the pages of her diary and revealed he was the one who destroyed her happiness along with his.

It was the color of death and destruction – the color of evil. And it was  _his_  color.

* * *

The little girl looked more confused than ever. "What do you mean by that, okaa-san? The kimono is expensive, isn't it?"

Her mother shook her head. "You are talking about the kimono's value – the price you have to pay in exchange for it." She reached out and gently took the kimono in her hands. "Its value is entirely different from its worth."

The little girl blinked. "Isn't that the same thing?"

Her mother caressed the crimson fabric tenderly, much in the same way any mother would soothe a lost and scared little child. "Didn't you ever notice, Kaoru…" she murmured. "How the word 'priceless' has an entirely different meaning from the word 'worthless'?"

* * *

He always hated the color red. It was the color of evil. So it didn't surprise him in the least that it was also the color of his hair.

He hated his hair as a child.

" _Hey, we're short of one player!"_

" _Look, there's a boy over there! Let's get him to join us."_

" _It's that farmer boy, Shinta."_

" _Why does his hair look like that? Is he even Japanese?"_

" _His name sounds Japanese."_

" _Then why does he_ look _like that?"_

" _Maybe he's a foreigner."_

" _Maybe he's not even human."_

" _Maybe he's a demon!"_

" _Stupid, demons don't exist."_

" _Do too!"_

" _Do not!"_

" _DO TOO!"_

" _DO NOT!"_

" _Shut up you two, he'll hear us!"_

" _Hey… those foreigners are causing the war, aren't they? Maybe they're the same as the demons."_

" _Maybe they_ are  _the demons."_

" _So that Shinta boy is a foreigner_ and _a demon?"_

" _I'm scared."_

" _Come on. Let's just find someone else to play with us."_

He hated his hair as a hitokiri.

" _I don't like this."_

" _Shut up."_

" _I don't like this at all! It's too quiet! I feel like someone's going to jump from the shadows any minute and kill me!"_

" _Be quiet! You're going to get us_ both _killed at this rate! I'll kill you first if you don't shut up."_

" _Hey, have you heard?"_

" _What now?"_

"Battousai! _Have you heard of him?"_

" _The Ishinshishi hitokiri?"_

" _I hear he can kill five men with one slash of his sword!"_

" _That's just an old story they cooked up to spook us."_

" _But what if he's real? What if he's—"_

" _Oi, why is that guy running?"_

" _My god, he's wounded!"_

" _Red hair! Cross-scar on his cheek! He's a demon! A_ demon _, I tell you!"_

" _Hey, hey, get a hold of yourself!"_

" _Wait,_ who's _a demon?"_

"BATTOUSAI! _"_

" _He's here?!"_

" _He's REAL?!"_

" _Run! Run for your lives, or the demon will kill us all!"_

And he hated his hair as a rurouni.

" _Look okaa-san, a swordsman!"_

" _Shhh! Don't get near him, he's dangerous!"_

" _Why? He looks harmless."_

" _People who carry swords in the Meiji Era are_ not _harmless."_

" _But he doesn't look like he's going to hurt us."_

" _That's what your father thought of the swords-bearing police, and look what happened to him."_

" _So… that swordsman is part of those evil policemen?"_

" _He looks too poor to be a policeman. He doesn't even look Japanese."_

" _Then why is he carrying a sword?"_

" _I don't know. But he's got some nerve carrying that around. He's probably here to cause trouble around town."_

" _Why is his hair like that, okaa-san?"_

" _The only person I know with that kind of hair…"_

" _Oji-san talks about someone like that."_

" _Yes. I've heard from your uncle… those tales he has been telling us…"_

" _About that legendary hitokiri?"_

" _About that demon who roamed the streets of Kyoto and made it rain blood every night."_

" _Demons are real?"_

" _Well, I can't be sure, of course. But if he's the killer your uncle is talking about, then he's no different from a demon."_

" _So that swordsman over there is…"_

" _You better stay away from the likes of him. Who knows, maybe he really is a demon in human form."_

He always hated the color red. It was the color of evil. So it didn't surprise him in the least that it was also the color of his hair. It was, after all, a color fit for a demon. And he  _is_  a demon.

Isn't he?

* * *

The little girl stared wide-eyed at her mother. "Worthless…"

"You refused to buy that kimono because you recognized its value." The older woman traced the delicate craftsmanship of the embroidery and felt the fine material of the silk beneath her fingers. "You knew that it was priceless, and that is why you didn't want it."

The little girl was startled when her mother suddenly looked at her straight in the eye. "But you're wrong, Kaoru." She placed the kimono back in front of her daughter. "You're wrong in believing this kimono was worthless."

* * *

_He didn't know when his perception began to change. He just suddenly realized that he couldn't bring himself to hate the color red as much as he used to._

"Yo Kenshin! What's for lunch?"

_It was the color of the bandanna that set spiky brown hair apart from mischievous brown eyes – trusting eyes of a good man, comrade, brother and friend._

"Mou, Sanosuke. Why don't you  _bring_  lunch for a change instead of  _asking_  for it when you come over?"

"Don't be so bitter, Jou-chan," Sanosuke quipped as he stepped into the familiar grounds of the Kamiya dojo. "You know I don't have the money to buy you guys lunch."

His beloved 'Jou-chan' arched an eyebrow at him. "Maybe if you stop spending all your money on sake and gambling, you'll have some left over to grace your generous friends with a meal every now and then."

Sanosuke snorted. "I don't know what you're fussing over. You're not exactly better off than me. You may have the money to buy the food but you sure as hell can't cook a decent meal to save your life."

"Why you ungrateful little—!"

He laughed. "Maa, maa… sessha just finished cooking de gozaru. You're welcome to stay for lunch, Sano."

"Oh don't feed the chicken too much, Ken-san. He won't fit in the oven by the time we're supposed to roast him."

_It was the color of the jar of salve beside the woman doctor, whose words and medicine sting in the guise of healing wounds from the inside out._

Sanosuke heaved an exasperated sigh. "One day, Megumi. Will it kill you to be nice for  _just one day_?"

Megumi smiled sweetly. "Will it kill you to  _not_ be the stupid rooster head you are for just one day?"

Sanosuke frowned. "Apparently not."

Megumi smirked. "Just as I thought."

Giggles erupted from the porch where the others were sitting, and Sanosuke suddenly caught onto the joke. "Oi! Megitsune, I wasn't talking about me! I was talking about  _you_!"

The woman doctor merely waved him off, much to the young man's annoyance. "Whatever, bird brain." She smiled at the little girl beside her and offered her a plate. "Would you like some more, Ayame-chan?"

Sanosuke's mouth dropped open. "And how come you're being nice to  _her_?"

_It was the color of the sweet sliced watermelon the children seemed so fond of—_

Ayame brightened and took another slice. "Arigatou, Megumi-neesan!"

"Leave room for lunch, okay?" Megumi gently reminded her.

"ITAI!"

— _and that was fast becoming the favorite of their grandfather too._

"Mou, 'jiichan! I  _told_  you to pick the seeds off the watermelon before you take a bite! Do you want to lose all your teeth?"

He tried and failed to stop an amused grin from spreading across his face. "Ayame-dono has a point, Genzai-sensei."

Dr. Genzai scratched his head sheepishly. "Gomen, Himura-san. I can't help it. The watermelon looked so delicious."

A melodious laugh rang from the porch as the gate swung open. "That's something I'd expect to hear from Yahiko-chan over there."

_It was the color of the flowers bought by a young boy whose strong heart looks to the future—_

"Don't call me 'chan' you old hag!"

The 'old hag' ignored his comment for once, knowing she had a much better way of teasing him. "Are those flowers?" she asked as she slyly pointed to the bunch of blossoms he held.

Flustered, Yahiko nearly tripped as he closed the gate behind him. "Y-Yeah, they are. So?"

His teacher grinned and elbowed the blushing girl beside her. "Hey Tsubame-chan, I think those are for you."

— _and was captured by the shy smiles of a young girl._

Yahiko scowled. "Who asked  _you,_  busu?"

Sanosuke rolled his eyes and pushed the boy forward. "Just give her the damn flowers, lover boy."

Dr. Genzai shot him a warning look. "Watch your language, Sano."

Megumi smirked. "As insensitive as ever, rooster head. Even the boy is more romantic than you."

Ayame tugged at the kimono of the frozen girl standing in front of her. "Aren't you going to get the flowers from Yahiko-niichan?"

"H-Hai," Tsubame stammered as she stepped forward and took the flowers from an equally blushing Yahiko. "Thank you."

"My, my, Tsubame-chan! I give you a day off from work and already you're on a date with Yahiko-kun!"

_It was the color of the stripes on the uniform of a thoughtful friend who feeds their stomachs and their spirits._

"Tae-san!" Tsubame exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"And we're not on a date," Yahiko interjected with a scowl.

Tae grinned at him. "So you just bought the flowers on a whim and you didn't save money the whole week to buy a gift for Tsubame's birthday."

Yahiko's eyes widened. "How did you—?"

"Oh Tae-san!" Tsubame clapped her hands in delight, her face positively glowing. "You remembered!"

"Of course I remembered, silly," said Tae as she strode forward carrying a tray of delicious smelling and even more delicious looking cakes. "Which is why I brought over some extra food. And judging by the looks of things," she said in amusement as she gazed around the suddenly crowded front yard. "I think you guys need it."

He smiled and took the tray from her. "How very thoughtful of you, Tae-dono. Let's save this for dessert, de gozaru."

_It was the color of strawberry jam—_

He kneeled on the porch and carefully set the tray down next to the stack of bento boxes he had prepared. She had insisted that they eat out in the yard for Tsubame's birthday, like having a picnic for lunch. He raised his head and found himself looking straight into beseeching blue eyes.

"Oro?"

She bit her lip nervously. "I know we're going to have lunch soon, but…" she trailed off, and her gaze wandered longingly on the tray of pastries between them. "Can't I have one now? Just a small one? Please?"

— _that filled the Western style pastries—_

As if any guy in his right state of mind could refuse eyes like that. "Go ahead, Kaoru-dono."

The smile that lit up her face and made the day just a tad brighter was well worth giving up his share of the sweets.

— _and smeared across her creamy face—_

Megumi made a face when the younger woman took a big bite of the pastry and chewed with gusto. "Mou, Kaoru-san. You're spending too much time around Sanosuke and Yahiko. You're starting to pick up their habit of eating like a pig."

"HEY!" both guys cried in unison.

Normally that warranted a heated retort or a violent outburst from her, but she was enjoying her treat too much to bother. So she merely stuck her tongue out at them and licked the jam off her lips.

— _making him wonder if it really was as sweet as it looked._

 _The jam_ , he quickly thought as he tore his gaze away.  _Not her… her…_

_It was also currently the color of her mouth – and probably the current color of his cheeks as well._

Small, insistent hands wrapped themselves around his neck. "Ken-nii!" came a delighted squeal as a little girl clambered onto his shoulders. "Piggy back! Piggy back!"

_And it was the color of the small ornamental balls that pinned back the little girl's hair—_

"Suzume-chan! Your hands are filthy!" she admonished as she moved to wipe away the bits of watermelon still stuck on the little girl's hands.

He chuckled. "Maa, maa… sessha will take a bath later, de gozaru."

— _and revealed the promising wide eyes—_

"Hai, hai!" Suzume cried out happily. "Ken-nii will be clean later!"

He laughed. "For now, sessha can afford to be dirty. Hold tight, Suzume-dono," he gently warned as he stood up and straightened, carrying little Suzume with him.

— _that made him believe this child's peaceful future had been worth all the battles he had fought._

"Careful, Suzume-dono," he spoke as she swayed slightly when he walked. Suzume fisted her hands in his hair in response. "Oro… not so tight, de gozaru. That hurts."

Suzume giggled, and he smiled as he tilted his head back to look at her. He blinked when he saw her studying his hair intently.

_He didn't know when his perception began to change._

Suzume scrunched her face in concentration. "Ken-nii… your hair…"

_He just suddenly realized…_

And the crease in her brows was replaced with a wide smile as Suzume joyfully proclaimed, "Your hair is very pretty!"

… _that he couldn't bring himself to hate the color red as much as he used to._

Their attention was suddenly drawn to him. And he found himself gazing at the warm, familiar faces surrounding him.

They were all smiling at him.

_Not when such a color of evil…_

His gaze met hers. And her eyes and her voice were equally tender as she spoke. "I agree…"

… _seemed to be so loved by such good people._

And in an uncanny imitation of the red-haired man they all loved, Kamiya Kaoru playfully added, "…de gozaru yo!"

* * *

The wooden boards shook as the little girl slammed her palms down on the floor. "I never said that! I never said that the kimono was worthless!"

Unfazed, her mother stared impassively back at her. "Then why did you refuse to buy it?"

"Don't you understand, mother?" The little girl knew her father would later punish her greatly for disrespectfully answering back her mother, but at the moment she didn't care. She couldn't understand why, but an irrational feeling of rage was blossoming inside her chest, and she felt incredibly angry – angrier than she ever thought possible. "Yes, I  _do_ want this kimono so badly, but I chose to let it go precisely because I knew… I  _knew_ —!" She grabbed a fistful of the fabric. "I knew that this kimono is too good for me!"

"Stop."

The quiet voice of her mother broke through her tirade. "What?"

Blue eyes that were so much like her own hardened into ice and steel. "Stop it, Kaoru. You're ruining it."

The little girl's gaze fell to her hand. She was clutching the kimono so tightly her nails were digging into the fabric. She quickly released the kimono, as if it burned her, and her eyes had a horrified look in them, as if she had hurt something alive and precious.

She watched as her mother quietly took the kimono once more and carefully smoothed the creases that had appeared on the fabric. "It is you, Kaoru, who doesn't understand. You don't know the difference between value and worth. Of course this kimono is priceless – its beauty and the skill incorporated in making it can easily attest to that. That is why the price you have to pay to own it is so high." Her hands halted their ministrations on the fabric. "That was probably one of the reasons why you refused to buy it. You knew it was expensive, and you didn't want to spend so much."

The little girl was silent – a testament to the truth of her mother's words.

"But in turning your back on it, in refusing to keep the kimono for yourself, you also refused to see the kimono's true worth." Her mother gently placed the kimono back on the floor between them. "And that is the same as believing the kimono is worthless."

"Okaa-san…"

"You told me before that you didn't want the kimono because you don't want to be selfish anymore. But the truth is that you didn't want the guilt that came in owning it. You didn't want to be scorned for proudly wearing something you believe you don't deserve – for wearing something you think  _other people_  would believe you don't deserve." She looked evenly into her daughter's startled eyes. "In the end, your reason became irrelevant. In the end, you are  _still_  selfish."

The little girl's hands curled into fists as she dropped her gaze. "Then what can I do?" she murmured. "What can I do to stop being selfish?"

"Stop looking at everything through its beauty or its use. Stop looking at everything based on its value. Stop looking at the kimono based on what purpose it will serve other people – or what purpose it might serve  _you._ " The little girl's eyes widened as her mother gently tilted her face up to meet her gaze. "Instead, look at what purpose  _you_  will serve  _to_  the kimono."

The little girl furrowed her brows. "It isn't human, okaa-san. It doesn't have feelings."

The older woman couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Kaoru-chan… this isn't only about the kimono. I bought the kimono not only as a gift, but also as a lesson for you to learn. It is a lesson I need you to fully understand because I don't want you to commit the same mistake in the future."

The little girl blinked. "With another kimono?"

Her mother's gaze softened. "With something far more worthy and more infinitely precious than all the kimonos in the world."

The little girl shook her head slowly. "I don't understand, okaa-san. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" She gestured offhandedly to the crimson fabric lying between them. "It's just a kimono."

Her mother smiled. "That, my dear Kaoru, is precisely the point."

* * *

Kamiya Kaoru was covered in blood.

He was sure that his heart stopped at that very instant. He froze in his tracks, every bone and muscle in his body refusing to move away from the horrible sight that met him. Thankfully, his mind was still functioning logically enough to snap him out of his shocked daze and force him to take a second look.

Kaoru blinked as she stepped out of the shadows. "What is it, Kenshin?"

A kimono. She was wearing a red kimono. Kenshin barely heard the shaky sigh that escaped his lips at the immense relief that flooded his veins. His knees wobbled slightly, and he shifted his feet as he reached up to run a hand tiredly over his face. He felt a bit lightheaded and dizzy – his nightmares were haunting him even outside of his sleep. Then again, she wasn't exactly helping matters by looking like  _that._

Kaoru stepped forward and worriedly laid a hand on his arm. "What's wrong, Kenshin? You look like you've seen death warmed over."

He cringed inwardly at her choice of words. "N-Nothing's wrong, Kaoru-dono. This unworthy one thinks it's just the heat getting to me, de gozaru."

Her brows creased. "Would you like me to get you some water?"

Kenshin smiled and waved her concerns off. "That won't be necessary, de gozaru. Kaoru-dono shouldn't worry so much about this unworthy one."

"Mou," said Kaoru as she dropped her hand. "You should know by now that I live to worry about you."

Her words were admonishing, but he saw a muted affection in her eyes and heard an undercurrent of something more tender and more profound than simple concern in her voice. Kenshin looked away. "Sessha is sorry for making Kaoru-dono worry," he said softly.

Kaoru rolled her eyes. "And stop apologizing for everything when it's not even your fault! Kenshin no baka!"

The retort was so like her that he had to laugh. "It's hard not to feel like everything is sessha's fault when Kaoru-dono keeps calling sessha an idiot, de gozaru."

Kaoru huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "Then stop giving me reasons to believe you are." She stuck her tongue out at him. " _Baka._ "

Kenshin chuckled, and the humor faded from his eyes as his gaze lingered on her form. "That's… a new kimono de gozaru."

Kaoru blinked as she looked down at herself. "Oh. This isn't really new. I… I've had it for a long time."

He stared at her. "It's the first time sessha saw it."

"Well… I suddenly felt like wearing it." Suddenly self-conscious, Kaoru awkwardly smoothed the fabric over her body. "What do you think of it?"

Kenshin blinked. "It's…"

_A color of blood. A color of death and destruction. A color of evil._

"…a strange color, de gozaru."

Kaoru tilted her head slightly. "Is it? Well, that's what most people believe. But I think it's a very beautiful color." A small smile played on her lips as she gazed at the fabric, not noticing how Kenshin's eyes had widened at her remark.

 _It was_ his _color. It should never,_ ever  _be hers._

* * *

The little girl frowned. "That's it? The true worth of the kimono is that… it's just a kimono?"

Her mother chuckled. "That's part of it."

The little girl is getting impatient. "Stop it with the riddles, okaa-san.  _What_  is this kimono's true worth?"

* * *

"By the way," said Kaoru as she looked up and gestured at the objects he held. Kenshin was holding a fishing rod in one hand and a bucket in the other. "Are you going to the river?"

"Aa." Kenshin shrugged sheepishly. "Sessha suddenly felt like fishing today."

Kaoru pressed her lips together and tentatively stepped closer to him. "Is it all right for you to be moving around so much? Megumi-san's strict instructions were for you to be having as much rest as possible." Her voice softened. "After all, your body has to have all the time it needs to recover from the battles you fought in Kyoto."

"Sessha has already rested enough." Kenshin smiled at her. "Ironically, to the point that it's making sessha restless. Sessha needed something to do."

She arched an eyebrow. "Cabin fever, huh?"

He chuckled. "Something like that, de gozaru."

Kaoru grinned at him wryly. "Well, after all that excitement in Kyoto, I'm getting a bit bored too." She suddenly brightened as an idea occurred to her. "Hey Kenshin… can I come with you?"

Kenshin was a bit startled at her enthusiasm, and she seemed to have suddenly realized her boldness. Kaoru dropped her gaze shyly. "Unless of course… you don't want me around."

* * *

The older woman smiled as she took her daughter's hands and gently wrapped them around the red kimono between them. The little girl held it up to the light, and the crimson fabric seemed to suddenly ignite and blaze, as if she was holding fire in her hands, only it wasn't burning her. She loosened her hold on it, and the fabric clung to her fingers before it dropped back to her lap, as if it was unwilling to let her go.

* * *

Kaoru blinked when she saw his magenta gi, painted red in the shadows of their bodies, step into her line of vision. She looked up and saw Kenshin smiling down at her.

"This unworthy one always wants Kaoru-dono around."

* * *

And the older woman looked into the little girl's eyes as she softly said, "The true worth of this kimono…"

* * *

Kaoru watched as Kenshin walked towards the gate and opened it. He looked back towards her expectantly. "Shall we go?"

She smiled and nodded. "Hai."

* * *

"…is something you have to find out for yourself."

 


	3. Beauty

Some questions are hard to answer.

" _You told Eiji in Shingetsu to be happy! Why don't you take your own advice?"_

Sometimes it's because no one knows what the answer is. Maybe the answer has not yet been found – or maybe it never existed in the first place.

" _It's been fifteen years, and now you have the nerve to show up… what do you want from me this time?"_

A useless search for an answer that never was.

" _Isn't protecting people from the pain of the times a teaching of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?"_

Sometimes it's because there are plenty of answers, and it's impossible to cover them all. There is no definite answer – all of them speak the truth.

" _If I can't use my sword now, when can I?"_

That doesn't necessarily mean, however, that all those answers are right.

" _You took a roundabout way to reach the teachings of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?"_

Sometimes it's because the answer does not seem like an answer at all. It is half a truth and half a lie – an unbelievable paradox that somehow makes sense.

" _Or is it that you're repenting for all the men you killed in your manslayer days?"_

It may be an insult to human intelligence, but perhaps we do not understand the world as well as we believe we do.

" _Kenshin?"  
_

And sometimes… some questions have the answers one does not want to hear or say.

 _I stop in my tracks as I am forced to recognize her question, her voice, her presence –_ her.  _I stop even as my mind screams to walk away from her, even as my body yells for me to hold her, even as my heart shouts in rejoicing and lamenting and cursing her for following me when she didn't even ask me to stay._

These are the answers we do not want to accept.

"… _are you angry with us for coming to Kyoto?"_

The irony of it all is that sometimes, the simplest questions are the hardest ones to answer.

* * *

"Kenshin?  _Ken-shin_!"

I blinked. "Oro? What is it, Kaoru-dono?"

"Mou," I heard her mutter under her breath. "Do you realize that I've been trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes now?" She turned to raise an eyebrow quizzically at me. "What has got you so distracted today that you couldn't even hear your own name?"

Deep in thought, I murmured, "Sessha was distracted by you."

" _What?_ "

"And your kimono, de gozaru," I quickly added. She looked at me strangely, and I prayed that she didn't notice my slip of tongue. Well, it was true anyway. I wonder if she knew that I'm distracted by her most of the time.

She frowned and turned away, a barely audible sigh escaping her lips. I suppressed a smile. I wonder if she knew she needn't be so disappointed. I wonder if she knew I think of her more often than she realize.

"Ne, Kenshin," she said suddenly. "What's your favorite color?"

I looked at her in surprise. She seemed to be seriously waiting for my answer. I cocked my head to one side and thought the question over. "Sessha can't say that he has one, de gozaru. Sessha never really thought about it," I admitted. "Does Kaoru-dono have one?"

She smiled at me and spread her arms slightly. "You're looking at it."

I let my gaze respectfully rove over her form, taking care not to let my eyes linger on any part of her body longer than necessary. "Ah… Kaoru-dono's favorite color is red, de gozaru ka?"

She nodded happily. "Hai!"

I wish the smile I gave her was genuine. I averted my gaze. I could only hope she wouldn't notice that I couldn't look at her too long. I couldn't bear the sight of something I've come to hate marring the person I've come to love.

"You're doing it again."

_Blood marring the pristine white snow…_

For a split second, I seriously thought she was talking about something else. "Oro?"

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're spacing out again!" Her mouth pouted at me, but her eyes glimmered with mischief. "Whatever's on your mind must really be more interesting than my company, huh?"

I laughed softly. "Maa… nothing is more interesting than Kaoru-dono's company, de gozaru," I told her truthfully, and I smiled at the blush that colored her cheeks. It was probably the only shade of red I was looking forward to seeing. "Sessha was just wondering why he never saw Kaoru-dono wear that kimono before, even though Kaoru-dono says it's her favorite color."

Like a cloud passing over the sun, something in the way the light in her eyes dimmed told me I had unexpectedly touched on a sensitive subject. I felt like I should change the topic, but for some reason, I was suddenly seized by a strange desire to know the answer. Instead, I waited quietly, patiently, for her answer.

Then, like the first rays of sunlight after the rain, her eyes suddenly brightened as something caught her gaze. "Look, Kenshin!"

I barely had time to utter a startled "Oro!" when she raced ahead of me. I shifted my hold on the bucket and the fishing rod before following her.

I stop a few feet away from her and stared at the amusing picture she made. She was crouched down on the grass, the hem of her kimono tucked neatly beneath her legs. We were near the riverbank now, close to my usual fishing spot where I normally take Ayame and Suzume with me. I smiled. From the way she was peering so intently at something near the roots of an old cherry tree, I feel like I still have a little girl with me.

She looked up when she finally noticed my presence. "Flowers," she pointed with a sunny smile.

I laughed at the child-like quality of her actions. "Sessha didn't know Kaoru-dono likes flowers," I said as I kneeled beside her. "Kaoru-dono never pays much attention to them in the market, de gozaru."

She wrinkled her nose. "The ones being sold in the market can hardly be called flowers." She sat back and pulled her knees up to her chest. "They're all trimmed and domesticated and… well…  _prettified_."

I blinked. The way her face scrunched up at that last word made it seem like she had uttered a bad word. Not understanding, I flopped down next to her. "That's a bad thing, de gozaru ka?"

She chuckled. "Well, not really. But those flowers, no matter how those vendors advertise them, can never be natural or real." She shrugged. "They're not the kind of flowers that can be called beautiful – really, truly beautiful in their own right."

I stared at her. "Then… what other flowers are there?"

She moved to the side and revealed to my view what was hidden before. There, growing discreetly among a clump of weeds at the foot of the towering cherry tree, was a collection of brightly colored plants.

"Wildflowers," she said with a smile.

Slowly, I reached a hand out towards them. "Red flowers," I murmured softly.

She moved closer and spoke to me in a whisper, as if afraid her voice would disturb the serenity of the surroundings and rouse the flowers from their peaceful slumber. "Look, Kenshin. These flowers are untouched and unadulterated. Growing in the wild, they know nothing of the cruelty human hands are capable of."

Her own hand hovered hesitantly over them, ghosting over the petals. Our fingers almost –  _almost_  – touched. Feeling suddenly shy, I moved my hand away.

"But unlike those flowers being put on display and sold at ridiculous prices in the market," she continued saying. "These flowers had to brave the wild alone with nothing to shelter or take care of them." A thoughtful smile crossed her features. "When you think about it, it's a wonder how something so pure turned out to be strong."

She rested her chin on her knees, her head turned slightly to one side as one of her hands lingered over one flower, smaller and more starkly red than the rest. "My father always said that the flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful one of all. I never really understood what that meant, so I can't say that I agree. I just find wildflowers beautiful." She chuckled. "What do you think, Kenshin?"

I looked at her youthful face, her eyes shadowed by all those sleepless nights when she took care of Sano and Yahiko and I after our battles in Kyoto. I looked at her hair dancing the breeze, longer and more beautiful than that night so long ago when she attacked me, not knowing and knowing at the same time who I really was. I looked at her slim, pale hands as they brushed over the delicate petals, her fingers hardened by years of training in the art of killing with the philosophy of protecting life.

"Aa," I said softly. "Wildflowers are beautiful indeed."

She smiled. "I'm glad you think so."

Her hand retreated and came to rest on her lap. She dropped her gaze as her fingers ran over the silky red fabric. "Do you know why I never wore this kimono before?" She looked up and met my startled gaze. "It's because the color red…"

And with a sweeping gesture, she motioned to the wildflowers growing at the foot of the cherry tree.

"…is the color of everything beautiful."

"Then isn't that more reason for Kaoru-dono to wear the kimono more often?"

She blinked at me in surprise, and my eyes widened when I realized I had spoken my thoughts aloud. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to stop herself from smiling, and she quickly looked away to hide her flushed face from my view.

"Thank you for the compliment, Kenshin." She stood up and dusted herself off, cutting off the awkward silence that had settled. "Although I'd like to believe you actually meant it."

"Oro!"

She grinned and held out a hand to help me up. After a moment's hesitation, I closed my hand over hers. It was smaller and paler than mine; she had a woman's hand. And yet as I brushed my skin against hers, I felt her calluses match mine. She had a fighter's hand.

She is so different from me. And yet in many respects… she is much like me as well.

"We better hurry," she said as I straightened. Almost as an apology, she tightened her grip on my fingers for a moment before she let go. I felt a rush of disappointment at the loss of her touch. "We don't want to keep those fishes waiting."

"Ah," I said with a smile. "Sessha believes those fishes don't want us around anyway, de gozaru."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "And how do you know that?"

I grinned at her. "If sessha was a fish, sessha definitely wouldn't want to be someone's dinner, de gozaru."

She smacked my shoulder playfully. "I believe your non-killing vow doesn't apply to living things with fins and a tail." She wagged a finger at me. "If you don't fish, we don't eat. If we don't eat, we die.  _Then_  what will happen to that vow of yours?"

"Oro… since Kaoru-dono put it that way, de gozaru…"

She laughed and made her way back onto the main road, her shoulders shaking in mirth. I chuckled and shook my head as I followed her. Her ponytail swished back and forth as she walked a few steps ahead of me, the ebony strands reaching the plum-colored obi that matched the ribbon in her hair. Only when we had already turned the corner did I realize that she had never truly answered my question.

And there was one more thing I wanted to ask her.

* * *

"Kaoru-dono?"

She turned to me with a dazed look in her eyes. "Hmm?"

"Sessha was just wondering…" I began.

"Damn!" she said suddenly. A soft  _plop!_  sounded in the water as a catfish jumped away from the fishing line. She leaned back with a frustrated sigh. "I thought we had that one." She turned to me again. "What were you saying, Kenshin?"

We had been sitting by the riverbank for an hour and half now. The bucket had been empty that long too, hence her growing impatience. I had chosen a spot near an old oak tree so she could sit and wait in the shade while I catch our dinner. She had insisted on sitting beside me. "In case Battousai needs back-up when the little fishies defeat him," she had added with a wink.

I took a deep breath and tried again. "Sessha was wondering about something Kaoru-dono said earlier, de gozaru."

She frowned when she saw that the fish had somehow taken the morsel attached to the end of the line when I reeled it in. "Do you still have bait?"

"Oro? Ah, hai, de gozaru. Here, sessha will take care of that first."

She waited until I had thrown the line into the water again before speaking. "What exactly did I say?"

I kept my gaze fixated on the waters in front of me. "The color red, de gozaru. Why did Kaoru-dono say that it was the color of everything beautiful?"

"Well, for one thing, it's the color of your hair."

I turned to her in surprise, and she averted her gaze as a response. She was blushing again. "I love…" she faltered for a moment and cleared her throat. "…your hair you know."

I smiled at the catch in her voice, and I felt my own cheeks warm a little. "Really, de gozaru ka?"

She chuckled. "Hai, de gozaru yo," she answered. "I used to be really jealous of your hair. I've never seen anything like it."

The smile faded from my face a little as I turned my gaze back to the river. "Kaoru-dono doesn't think it looks strange?"

She cocked her head to one side. "A bit messy, perhaps," she said wryly. "But I still think it's beautiful."

I stiffened when I felt her fingers tentatively touch my back. Slowly, she let her fingers thread through the crimson strands, and I forced myself to relax at the feather-light caress.

"You know, Kenshin," she murmured as she pulled her hand away. "You really should learn to take better care of your hair. You're hiding its true beauty from people."

I let my bangs fall in front of my eyes. "Sessha would rather not let it be seen by people anyway, de gozaru."

The leaves of the surrounding trees rustled as a gentle breeze blew. The blades of grass danced and tickled our ankles, and the reeds at the riverbank swayed to the wind's unheard music, revealing the crystalline waters beyond. Floating gems sparkled on the surface as it reflected the sunlight that shone through wisps of white clouds. Birds flew overhead and sang in chorus to the soft, rushing song of the river.

"I think I understand now why you're fond of fishing so much."

"Oro?"

She turned to smile at me. "You love it here, don't you?"

It took a moment to register that she was talking about the riverbank. I smiled back. "Aa. It's beautiful down here. And peaceful."

"Mm. That I can agree with," she murmured. "We all need peace and quiet sometimes, especially with all that racket back at the dojo."

I chuckled. "Maa… it's not so bad, de gozaru. Sessha likes having Sano and the others around."

She snorted. "That's because you're not the one the idiot rooster head leeches money off."

The guilt must have shown on my face, because she quickly smacked me in the head. "Oro!"

"Oh don't give me that look, Kenshin. You've done more than enough."

I fell silent. The words that meant to comfort and reassure instead brought a sense of foreboding and, as always, guilt. Danger followed me everywhere, and it seemed to have taken up a permanent residence at the dojo as well. It chose to stay with me. I wonder if I had made the wrong choice. I wonder if I really had done more than enough already.

The smooth, glassy surface of the water shattered into ripples as another fish jumped away. I heard her sigh beside me in disappointment.

I had spent the last decade wandering, trying to remain one step ahead of the guilt and the grief that always followed me. From the corner of my eye, I stole a glance at her, at my reason for staying – and for coming back. I chose to stay with her, to stop my wandering at least for the moment, even though I knew that in doing so my past would catch up to me soon.

I watched as she scrunched up her face in concentration, looking for any sign of fish lurking beneath the water's surface. A small smile played on my lips. I wonder though… if I stop and stay long enough, maybe the guilt and the grief that always followed me will have a chance to overtake me. And maybe it will finally leave me behind.

And maybe… I won't have to wander again. Maybe I can really, finally… stay.

_Blood marring the pristine white snow…_

" _I've seen you! I've seen you, Battousai! I've seen that this girl is your woman!"_

"… _You're doing it again."_

I shook my head. No… perhaps even that was too much to ask for.

* * *

"Kenshin?"

Her voice brought me back from the pull of the past on my thoughts. "Hai, de gozaru ka?"

She gestured casually at the surroundings of the river. "This is your favorite place, isn't it?"

I smiled. "In a way, yes."  _Next to the Kamiya dojo, with you._  "Why did Kaoru-dono ask?"

She brought her knees up to her chest as she rocked back and forth thoughtfully. "What's your favorite thing here?"

"Oro?" I paused as I pondered the question. "Sessha likes everything here. As this one said earlier, it's beautiful here. Although…"

She looked at me curiously as I trailed off. "Although…?" she prompted.

"Well… Kaoru-dono said that red is the color of everything beautiful." I shrugged. "Sessha noticed that hardly anything here is colored red, de gozaru."

She smiled. "That's because you don't look hard enough."

"Oro?"

She pointed at the woods across the river. "In the summer, the red sparrows that fly from the trees as they leave their nest."

Next, she pointed at the bridge. "In autumn, the children playing with small red pinwheels that turn in the strong wind."

Then she pointed at the houses beyond. "In winter, the warmth of red fire glowing from inside the homes, inviting shelter from the cold."

She finally turned to me. "And of course, in spring… the red wildflowers."

Locking her arms behind her, she leaned on her palms and gazed at the sky. "My mother was a painter," she said softly. "She loved to paint landscapes like these. She was talented and very detailed in her work."

I listened with rapt attention, a bit startled at how she was telling me all these and curious as to why. And with that came the guilty realization that despite her acceptance of mine, I don't know much about  _her_  past.

Her gaze took on a faraway look. "She taught me that it was the little things that mattered most. She made sure that even if her pictures were made of sweeping blues and greens and browns, she never forgets to add a little red flower here, or a red bird there, or even the reflection of the red sunset on rivers like these."

She smiled. "Even if these small details were inconspicuous, somehow the picture wouldn't be complete without them." She looked at me. "It wouldn't have been as beautiful."

She was distracted for a moment by a movement in the water. The wind picked up and ruffled my bangs, shielding my eyes from her view.

"Sessha is glad, Kaoru-dono."

"For what, Kenshin?"

I raised my head and stared at the waters in front of me. "Sessha is glad that Kaoru-dono never knew the horrible things that were colored red."  _Blood, death, destruction._   _Battousai._ My hands tightened around the fishing rod. "That for Kaoru-dono… red was the color of peace and beauty."

The plum ribbon danced in the wind along with her ebony locks. A few strands flew in front of her face, and she closed her eyes as she savored the cool air on her skin. Slowly, gently, she reached up and tucked her hair neatly behind her ears. Her hands came to rest in her lap, atop the red fabric that enfolded her body.

"It was autumn when my father died," she said quietly. "Everything was red then."

I turned to her in surprise. "Kaoru-dono…"

"The leaves were just turning red when I received news of my father's death. I felt as bare and lifeless as the branches the leaves left behind when they fell." She lowered her head, refusing to meet my gaze. "And the envelope that bore the letter was tied with red string. Even though the dojo was eerily peaceful when the messenger brought the letter, the message served as a reminder that the wars were not yet over. People were still fighting. Battles were still being waged. My father, my hero, the man of my life, was just a mere casualty."

Her hands curled into fists. "Word began to spread about my sudden availability – after all, I was an unmarried young woman with no family to answer to. Suitors suddenly came in droves. They jumped at the chance, of course." She chuckled bitterly. "After all, they believed that the dojo lacked an heir. Who would expect a girl like me to run a dojo on my own?"

I thought back to that misty morning when she called to me with the name I discarded ten years ago. The surprise on my face when I turned to look at my attacker had been genuine. In all of my twenty-eight years, it had been the first time I faced a swords _woman_.

"I turned them all away, of course. Some of the more persistent ones left with bruises and a few broken bones." She huffed irritably. "I refuse to be taken as a prize. I may be a woman, but I'm still a human being. I'm not a goddamn trophy."

I knew firsthand how skilled with the sword she was – and I knew how angry she could get. I knew I should feel sorry for those men for all the injuries they received.

It surprised me that I wasn't.

"One night in early spring, a group of men broke into the dojo. They were yakuza. I remember because they were wearing this trademark red bandanna on their necks. It seemed that the land the dojo was standing on was very valuable to them. Their boss wanted to marry me at all costs – even if he had to do it by force."

She wrapped her arms around herself as she shivered. I knew it wasn't from the cold. "He actually got as far as my room. After all, the easiest way to force me into marriage was to…" She swallowed and released a shaky breath. "To dishonor me."

Red was beginning to color my vision, and it wasn't from my hair. I forced myself to take a deep, calming breath, even as I felt my blood beginning to boil, even as I felt the long dormant hitokiri clawing its way into my consciousness. I stamped down the sudden urge to reach for my sword. The fishing rod was going to snap at any moment from the way I was gripping it.

"Did… did they succeed?" My reflection rippled in the water, and in my eyes I saw the first traces of gold melting into the normally placid purple. I quickly scrunched my eyes shut, and when I opened them again, they were thankfully back to their normal color. "…d-de gozaru ka?"

She shook her head. "No. My father didn't die without leaving a legacy. I fought them. I fought with everything my father taught me. It was hard, but I finally managed to drive them out of the dojo."

"Was Kaoru-dono hurt badly?"

"…Genzai-sensei took care of me."

We both knew she didn't answer my question. We both knew I wouldn't like the answer anyway.

"What happened after that was even worse. The yakuza took their revenge on me by threatening the families of my students. They were told that if their children were to come anywhere near the dojo again, they will be killed by the yakuza. Those men figured that if I lost my only source of income, I'd be the one crawling back to them."

Her eyes hardened. "I doubted that the yakuza would actually go through with their threats. But it was enough to alarm my students' families. That summer, I got thrown out of their houses each time I tried and begged for them to listen to my explanation. They even resorted to throwing stuff at me just to keep me out. Red tomatoes were their favorite."

Her fingers gripped the fabric of her kimono tightly. "The winter that followed was the worst. I barely had enough money to last me through the day. If it hadn't been for Tae-san's support, I probably would've died of starvation a long time ago." She turned to me with a wry smile. "By then, I wouldn't have to worry about suitors anymore. Tae-san used to joke that I looked as sick as death itself."

I tried to smile back. I failed.

"It was then that Genzai-sensei introduced me to Maekawa-sensei. He was a good friend of my father's and a firm believer of the Kamiya Kasshin philosophy. He helped me get back on my feet, even though in doing so he had a few run-ins with the yakuza. He and Genzai-sensei took care of me, though somewhat indirectly. I owe my life to them."

She smiled at me, sincerely this time. "I guess you could say I'm still somewhat lucky. It makes me wonder who took care of you all this time."

Even now, she wouldn't allow herself to wallow in self-pity. Even now, she wouldn't allow me to wallow in guilt for underestimating her again.

"I hope that you had met people like Tae-san and Genzai-sensei and Maekawa-sensei during your wandering." Her eyes softened. "Did you, Kenshin?"

Even now, she wouldn't allow herself to be selfish.

"No."

"No?"

"No. Sessha met better people, de gozaru."

She blinked. "Really? Who?"

" _When you think about it, it's a wonder how something so pure turned out to be strong."_

A small smile appeared on my lips. "Sessha met people like Kaoru-dono."

I didn't have to look at her to see that lovely shade of red on her cheeks again.

"Baka _,_ " she whispered softly.

* * *

"Mou," I heard her mutter for the nth time. "This really isn't our lucky day," she grumbled as she poked at the still-empty bucket.

I forced myself to maintain a straight face. "Maybe the fishes felt Kaoru-dono's violent aura and got scared, de gozaru yo."

She glared at me. "I am  _not_ violent." She was poised to hit me again, yet stopped in mid-swing as she seemed to have thought better of it. She frowned and let her arm drop back to her side. "Most of the time, anyway."

I chuckled. "Maa… we'll catch the next one, de gozaru."

_Plop!_

She raised an eyebrow at me as another catfish jumped away.

"Oro… or maybe the one after that."

She sighed and moved to help me attach another bait to the line. She sat back and watched as I cast it once again into the water.

"How does Kaoru-dono do it?"

"Eh?"

I absentmindedly moved my hand over the reel. "Kaoru-dono has many bad memories of the color red, de gozaru. And yet she still loves the color." I watched the line move in the direction my hand was steering. "How can Kaoru-dono love something that reminds her so much of things that she wants to forget?"

The line stopped moving in the water as I let my hands rest once more on the fishing rod's handle.

"You've got it all wrong, Kenshin," she said softly. "I don't want to forget."

And for the nth time that day, I turned to her in surprise.

"My mother was the one who introduced me to the color red. She loved it almost as much as I do, though I think her favorite color was green." She chuckled. "They were the color of my father's eyes, after all."

I smiled. "So Kaoru-dono got her eyes from her mother, de gozaru ka?"

She snorted. "It's not just her eyes. People used to say that I was an exact carbon copy of my mother."

"Was Kaoru-dono's mother just as violent too?"

I let out a startled "Oro!" when she yanked at my hair. "Shut up, Kenshin, and let me finish."

"Hai. Shutting up, de gozaru yo."

She grinned and let her arm fall back to her side. "And for your information, no, she wasn't violent. I was similar to my mother in appearance, but in everything else I was truly my father's daughter. Probably the only other thing I have in common in her was our love for colors."

Her hands moved gently on her lap, her fingers lingering over the fabric of her kimono. "For her, red was the color of passion. It was a passion that could work both ways, she told me. It could be a passion borne out of love, or a passion borne out of bloodlust and hatred. A passion that can create or destroy." Her gaze turned wistful. "It worked both ways for me too. It had been the color of everything I deemed beautiful. And it had also been the color of everything that destroyed that beauty."

The wind picked up once more, ruffling the ribbon in her hair. And I noticed, for the first time, that it was close to the color of a purple shawl that once wrapped around a young boy's shoulders, protecting him from the madness of a killer's mind.

"But I can never hate the color red. Because to hate it will be the same as hating the person who taught me to love it."

My eyes widened.

"The color red may have taken away those that have been precious to me."

" _No… I don't want to die… I was finally going to marry her… I have always… loved her…"_

"It made me lonely."

" _The happiness I should have had died with him."_

"But…"

"… _but maybe it was really my fault."_

I blinked in surprise when she tugged at my hair once more. "It also took the loneliness away."

" _The happiness you lost once, in all this violence. I'll protect it this time for you."_

"And it brought me new things to cherish."

" _If you fall as a sacrifice, one girl who came to Kyoto with the one wish to see you will be left miserable and alone."_

"To forget that I have lost because of it will be the same as forgetting that I have gained because of it as well."

" _It's not just me and Megumi. Everyone wants you to come out of this all right."_

"I'm thankful both for what I once had…" She smiled at me. "And for what I have now."

" _Let's go back to Tokyo together."_

She held my hair up to the light, and the crimson strands seemed to suddenly ignite and blaze, as if she was holding fire in her hands, only it wasn't burning her. She loosened her hold on them, and the strands clung to her fingers before they draped back against my back, as if they were unwilling to let her go.

"And that's why I don't want to forget."

She reached up and adjusted her ribbon, which became loose in the blowing wind. It was close to the color of a purple shawl so long ago. Close, but not quite the same. Different… but equally beautiful.

"Thank you."

Her hands paused in its movements atop her head. "Eh? For what?"

I smiled. "Sessha thinks he can understand now why Kaoru-dono loves the color red. And sessha…"

" _It's alright. So please, don't cry."_

"Sessha finally realizes… he doesn't want to forget either."

* * *

"You seem to be asking a lot of questions lately, Kenshin."

Her soft voice broke through my thoughts. I turned to her and saw an equally soft smile playing on her lips. I wonder, though, why her smile didn't reach her eyes when they met mine. "May I be the one to ask you a question this time?"

"Of course, Kaoru-dono."

The sun was already dipping low in the sky as the afternoon wore on, forming long shadows that stretched across the grass. The rays were now cast on the river from a different angle than before, and the slivers of light danced in her face as she stared at the water's reflection.

"What's the difference between value and worth?"

Of all the questions she could've seized the moment to ask me, this was something I didn't expect. I blinked. "Is there supposed to be a difference, de gozaru ka?"

"According to my mother, there is." The branches of the oak tree stretched above us, casting shadows over her smile. "That's why she gave me a special gift for my birthday."

She hugged her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. She looked as small as a child just then. "A long time ago, when I was still a little girl, my mother bought me this kimono to teach me a lesson. It was the last gift she ever gave me. She died a year later."

Her bangs danced over her eyes, and I knew that it wasn't the river she was seeing. "My mother had never been as physically strong as my father and I. She battled with tuberculosis for years before it finally defeated her." She closed her eyes briefly. "She coughed up blood every night. I had to do the laundry every morning. Red stained the white sheets everywhere."

_Blood marring the pristine white snow…_

"…This unworthy one is sorry, Kaoru-dono."

She opened her eyes, and the sadness in them was gone as quickly as it came. "So I think you know now why I'm not really that fond of doing the laundry," she lightly joked.

I smiled softly. "Aa." Even if one doesn't want to forget, some memories are just too painful to remember.

I reeled the line in and sighed when I saw the hook had caught on some weeds in the water. I carefully removed them and made a few adjustments with the line. Then I raised my arms, set my shoulders, and threw the line back into the water.

"What was the lesson, de gozaru ka?"

She blinked and turned to me. "What?"

"The lesson Kaoru-dono's mother wanted to teach her." I glanced at her. "What was it?"

She dropped her gaze. "She died before she could fully explain to me what this lesson was. I… I never learned it." Her hands curled into fists on her lap. "At least… I never really understood what she wanted me to learn."

I stared at her for a long moment. Then I set the fishing rod down. I took the few remaining steps closer to her and knelt before her, a determined look on my face.

"Kaoru-dono."

She watched my movements warily, curiosity and nervousness flitting across her features. "Yes, Kenshin?"

"Sessha would like to know more about this kimono, de gozaru." I smiled when she looked at me in surprise. "Sessha would like to know the whole story behind it. This unworthy one doesn't presume to understand, but…"

Her eyes widened when I gently took her hands in mine.

"If Kaoru-dono will allow it, this unworthy one would like to help her learn this lesson." I lowered my gaze and let my thumbs idly rub over her knuckles soothingly, comfortingly. "Her mother's lesson seems to be very important to her. So even if it's not much, sessha…" I let my voice drop to a whisper. "Sessha would like to help Kaoru-dono."

" _When I first met you, Kaoru-dono…"_

I realized how strangely I was acting.

" _You told me that you didn't care about my past."_

The rurouni never would have done something so bold. But the hitokiri wouldn't have been so gentle about it either.

"… _I was happy about that."_

I acted this way only once before.

" _Day after day, I continued to rest my soul, and I really felt that I could become a normal swordsman."_

She was silent for a long moment, and I felt vulnerable under her penetrating gaze. It was a familiar feeling.

" _Thank you for everything."_

I looked at the way my hands held hers. It was the same feeling I had when I held her that night amidst the fireflies' light.

" _Sessha wa rurouni. I must be wandering again."_

"Ken… shin…"

It was the same. Even the way she brokenly whispered the syllables of my name was the same. Even the way her sapphire pools darkened and melted into the liquid sadness of tears was the same. I felt my chest tightening with an unknown emotion and I moved to pull my hands away.

" _Sayonara._ "

Her fingers tightened over them almost immediately.

This… this was different. I stared at her in surprise. "Kaoru-dono?"

Slowly, finally, she raised her head and met my gaze. Her sapphire pools had darkened and melted into the liquid sadness of tears. But her rosy lips bloomed into the delicate, joyous petals of a smile.

This was different too. My eyes widened.

"I'd like that," she said softly. "I'd like that very much."


	4. Purpose

" _What was that just now?!"_

It wasn't the sight and sound of people barging into my master's hut that surprised me. Somehow I already expected that, what with the sudden flare of outraged ki just seconds before the door broke down. Twenty years of practicing the art of the sword honed my senses to be alert to ambush attacks so I could react even before I was consciously aware of the enemy's presence.

This time, however, I was rooted to the floor. I couldn't move, couldn't even  _think_. Twenty years of practicing the art of the sword didn't teach me how to react to the sudden presence of people who  _weren't_  enemies.

" _Who are you people?"_

Twenty years of practicing the art of the sword taught me that it was better to trust no one. It's easier to maim, to hurt, to kill, to throw away someone's life when you don't have an attachment to life itself. Even within the Ishinshishi, there were only a handful of people whom I trusted. Even though we were all supposedly fighting for the same ideal, we were fighting in a time of war. Betrayal was as easy as a flick of a sword. Putting your trust in another person was like signing a contract with death itself. I trusted my sword more than I trusted my own people.

There was one person, however, whom I trusted completely.

And I killed her.

My sword wasn't the one that betrayed me. It was my sheath.

Twenty years of practicing the art of the sword taught me that it was much easier to deal with people who would want to kill me than people who would die for me.

" _Misao-dono? Yahiko?"_

Because those people who would die for me are the people who care. And it hurt to care. That was why it was so much easier to leave them behind. That was why I left this cabin fifteen years ago, and why I left all those people who cared back in the Aoi-ya and in Tokyo. That was why I wandered, and left her lying peacefully underneath the earth in a humble grave that I did not dare visit for ten years. That was why I wandered, and left  _her_  crying alone with only the fireflies to offer her light amidst the consuming darkness of the night.

"… _Kaoru… dono…"_

I left because I cared. And it hurt to care. But it hurt even more to love. It hurt because I wanted to stay.

And she did not ask me to stay.

" _Are these friends of yours?"  
_

The disbelief in my master's voice was apparent. Somehow I couldn't blame him. He knew what happened the last time I allowed myself to trust – to care. To love.

" _Yes."_

He must think I'm a fool for letting it happen all over again.

" _It's like Grand Central Station here today."_

I tore my gaze away from those liquid blue eyes, dark and deep like the ocean. I refuse to let them draw me in. I refuse to drown in them. I will not be trapped again. I will not be taken by  _her_  again.

I will not allow her to hurt me again.

" _People should know when they're not wanted._ "

What right has she to follow me now when she did not even ask me to stay?

* * *

" _I sought that kimono… just because it was something that I wanted._ "

The wind tousled my hair as I stared unseeingly at the rushing waters in front of me. I sat beside her quietly and listened until at last she finished telling her tale, and a wall of silence stretched between us – an infinite wall of words left unspoken but understood. A few feet away rested the bucket and the fishing rod, neglected and forgotten.

I leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree and let my sakabattou rest against my shoulder. I held on tightly to the sword by my side – the sword that had always been by my side. Somewhere in the middle of her story, she had let go of my hands. I tried to hold on, but she insisted on letting go. Just like she did so many years ago with the crimson kimono that lay on the topmost shelf behind the counter. Just like she did so many nights ago when she refused to say the words I longed and needed to hear.

" _In the end, your reason became irrelevant. In the end, you are still—"_

"Selfish," I murmured, recalling her mother's words.

Her head turned slightly to the side as she looked at me. It still amazes me how no matter how softly I speak, she always hears the words I say – and even the words I don't say. That is how I knew, even though I never said it, even though the words I spoke that night were entirely different from what I wanted her to hear… I knew she heard me tell her that I wanted to stay.

I saw it in the way her beseeching blue eyes had helplessly searched my face. I heard it in the deep shuddering breaths she had taken when she tried and failed to stop herself from crying. I felt it in the way her body had trembled pitifully against mine, and the way her cold tears had dropped into the shoulder of my gi, the same shoulder that now supported the sword that both took me away and brought me back to her.

On that evening of May 14th, amidst the soft glow of the fireflies' light, I knew she heard me tell her without words how much I wanted to stay. And it hurt, so deeply and unforgivably, that she did not ask me to stay.

"Kenshin?"

Her gentle, hesitant touch brought me back to the present. A little surprised, I looked down and saw the way her fingers skimmed over mine. Camouflaged in the grass, our hands seemed to meld into one, even though in reality my skin barely brushed against hers. We would always be near enough, just within each other's reach, but we would never be fully touching each other – never fully holding each other. Always so close… and always so far.

I watched as her hand retreated for a moment. She slowly curled her fingers into a fist. And then suddenly, with a renewed determination, she grasped my hand fully in hers.

Confused, I raised my head to look into her eyes. I had always found it strange how people would always comment on how predictable she was, on how easily they could tell when she'd shift from one temperament to the next. Because whenever I'd look into her eyes, I couldn't even begin to fathom the depths of those bottomless blue pools. Sometimes I think she's even more of a mystery than people say I am.

"Kenshin?" she repeated softly. "What do you think my mother was trying to say?"

Why did she reach for me now when she had just insisted on letting go?

Why did she follow me when she didn't even ask me to stay?

" _It is you, Kaoru, who doesn't understand. You don't know the difference between value and worth."_

I pulled both my hand and my gaze away from her so I wouldn't have to see the mixture of surprise and hurt that flashed across her eyes at the action.

"Sessha believes that Kaoru-dono's mother was right."

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand back and let it rest on her lap. Confusion laced her voice as she timidly asked, "What do you mean?"

I lowered my head and let the fall of red hair cover my shadowed eyes. The weight of the sword by my side felt heavier than ever.

"Sessha believes… Kaoru-dono should've considered the feelings of the kimono."

* * *

I picked up the bucket and walked past her without a word. Neither of us spared a glance at each other. Neither of us  _could._ Neither of us was prepared to look into each other's eyes and acknowledge that this time, these eyes were not just images our deluded minds conjured in the days we were apart out of a desire to see what we could never have.

This time, these eyes were real.

"Why did you just stand there?!" I heard Misao exclaim when I had already walked a few feet away from my master's hut.

"Exactly!" came Yahiko's voice. "If you couldn't speak you should have at least started a fight!"

I heard her murmur something under her breath in response, but I was already too far from the hut to make out the words. I pressed my lips together and tried to quell the disappointment I felt. What did I expect her to do, anyway? Did I expect her to call out to me, like she did so long ago within the death grip of Jin-ei's spell? Did I expect her to cling to me, like she did so long ago within the shadows Saitou brought from the past?

I slowly picked my way through the forest, down a familiar path I haven't walked in over fifteen years. My sandals scrape across the ground, the grating sound as loud in the silent night as it was the moment I left her behind with only the fireflies to keep her company. What did I expect her to do now that she has followed me here?

 _Why_ was she here? What reason would she have to travel all the way from Tokyo, where she was safe and secure within the company of people who care for her, who can  _protect_ her, to come to Kyoto, where she might end up a pawn or – my grip on the bucket tightened – a  _casualty_  when Shishio Makoto creates a new world of the strong by burning down the old world of the weak?

I shook my head. What an irrational and stupid girl. She has absolutely no good reason to follow me here. So  _why_  was she here, standing just outside the door of my master's hut, as if there was nowhere else in the world she'd rather be?

I stopped in my tracks. Surely…  _surely…_  it wasn't because she just wanted to see me?

With a flutter of wings and a rustling of the leaves, an owl hooted from the trees, as if in mocking response to the irrational and stupid joy that suddenly swelled within me at the thought.

I pressed my lips together and angrily stamped the feeling down. No. It wasn't the reason. It  _couldn't_ be. Not when she didn't even ask me to stay.

" _Sessha wa rurouni…"_

I trudged deeper into the forest, into the darkness where I walked alone, without even a single firefly to keep me company.

Even the fireflies chose to stay with her.

* * *

She shook her head slowly. Doubt and disbelief had crept into her voice as she spoke. "Kenshin… I'm not sure I understand." Her fingers peeked out of the long sleeves of her kimono as she stroked the fabric meekly, hesitantly. "I-It's just a kimono. It doesn't have feelings."

I closed my eyes and let a small, humorless smile spread across my lips. I should've expected that was the reason. That was  _always_  the reason.

" _It isn't human, okaa-san."_

I could almost feel my smile turning bitter. I never expected, however, for it be  _her_  reason as well.

"Sessha believes it does, Kaoru-dono," I murmured. "Sessha believes it does."

* * *

I pushed back a long tree branch that blocked my path and stepped through before letting it snap back into place behind me. I brushed away the leaves that got tangled in the mess of my hair and let my eyes take in the dreamlike scene that, after fifteen years, still managed to take my breath away.

I smiled softly. If I didn't know my master that well, and I didn't know how much of a mean old slave-driver he is, I'd think he sent me here to make me feel better.

The denseness of the forest gave way to a small clearing, the tall trees surrounding the area like devoted sentinels guarding a precious secret. The trees opened up to a cloudless sky, and the stars sparkled like diamonds resting against a dark blue kimono. Even with a cool night breeze blowing, the moon's twin on the lake in the middle of the clearing remained still, the reflection never wavering as it stared defiantly up at its source. Moonlight bathed the grasses in a silver-blue glow, and the whole place shone ethereally, the only area in the forest where one can escape the looming and choking darkness of the night.

The smile on my face faded. Such serenity and beauty is the perfect shelter for the cruelest form of evil. Such peace is the perfect camouflage for the unrest that lies beneath.

I remember a clearing like this that I encountered not so long ago with Misao in another part of Kyoto's many forests. Only that time, I had seen that clearing in the light of day. And it showed all the more clearly how the leaves were bathed not in the silver-blue light of the moon, but in the sickening stench and color of blood.

It was a strange and painful twist of fate that I had once more encountered death much earlier than I had wanted to.

Perhaps in many ways, it was fortunate that Misao and I had found Eiji that afternoon, lying in the arms of his dead brother. I couldn't save his brother's life, but at least it gave me a chance to free the Shingetsu village from the clutches of Shishio's men. I couldn't save his brother's life, but at least it gave me a chance to save many more innocent lives. I couldn't save his brother's life, but at least it gave me a chance to face and learn about my opponents sooner, a chance to find a stronger sword that cannot kill and save the grandchild of that sword's maker, a chance to defeat the resurrected man from the Bakumatsu who has the power to reduce Japan into nothing more than a pile of ashes from which he would arise like a horribly mutated phoenix.

But it doesn't change the fact that  _I couldn't_   _save Eiji's brother._ Nor does it change the fact that I could only stand back and listen helplessly at Eiji's howl of unfathomable grief and despair as he saw how the lifeless bodies of his mother and father were displayed piteously –  _inhumanely_  – as a testament to the cruelty and heartlessness his fellow human beings are capable of.

No one deserves that kind of suffering.  _No one._

The grass crunched beneath my feet as I strode forward and dipped the bucket into the lake. The moon's innocent twin was shattered.

No human being deserves that kind of suffering. Not even me.

I straightened and watched as the ripples began to recede. My reflection on the water was shadowy and wavy, and I could almost imagine that it was a red-haired monster lurking beneath the surface just waiting for its chance to jump out and devour me.

No human being deserves that kind of suffering. It just so happened that the world was so intent on proving that I'm not a human being.

The waters finally stilled and I saw my reflection finally take on a human form. And even amidst the shadows and the silence, I saw clearly the way my eyes stared back at me.

They were tired eyes. Tired of seeing death and destruction. Tired of seeing endless wars and cycles of betrayals. Tired of watching loved ones die. Tired of watching others watch their loved ones die. Tired of holding back tears because there are no warm and gentle hands to wipe them away from a bloodstained face.

No human being deserves that kind of suffering. But I'm not a human being, because I'm kinder and nobler and stronger than all the men who had fallen before me, and therefore I'm the only one capable of bravely carrying the weight of every suffering of every other human being on my shoulders. I'm the only one who can save Japan, and everyone else is counting on me.

That was how she saw me. That was why she did not ask me to stay. Because she knew our country needed its hero more than she needed to someone to stay –  _willingly, wholeheartedly, lovingly_ – by her side.

I could only wish that I was as kind and as noble and as strong as she believed I am. I could only wish that was how I saw myself. I could only wish that she would never know the real reason why I went to her to fulfill my promise of watching the fireflies with her.

It wasn't because I wanted to say goodbye. I never wanted to say goodbye. It was just the only thing left to say when she did not ask me to stay. And I  _wanted_ to stay – with her, with all of them. Because like every other human being, I just wanted to have a home. I just wanted to  _be_ home.

My gaze was transfixed on the clear waters of the lake. I could see the hollows deepening around my eyes, the shadows darkening beneath them. In the silver-blue light of the moon, my eyes looked dull and lifeless.

She never saw my eyes that night. She never saw how tired they looked, and how much suffering it had seen, and how much more suffering it doesn't want to see anymore.

The real reason why I came to her that night was because for once in my whole damned life, I wanted to be  _selfish._ I wanted to believe that I had already sacrificed enough, that I had already lost enough, that I had already suffered enough – that everything I did and everything I've been through was  _enough._  I wanted to believe that here, now, was an equally selfish creature who would find in me the happiness I find in her and would selfishly ask me to stay with her.

But the world was so intent on proving to me that I'm not a human being. Because it graced me with a kind and noble and strong woman who was unselfish enough to let me go.

And perhaps she was right. Perhaps I  _am_  kind and noble and strong enough to be Japan's hero once more. Perhaps my tired eyes can stand to see more suffering. After all, I'm not a human being. I'm kind and noble and strong enough to be unselfish.  _Just as I had always been._

I turned away sharply and a pebble dropped into the lake, dissolving my reflection into that red-haired monster once more.

My country needs me. And I cannot turn my back on my people. Not when Hitokiri Battousai – not when  _I_ – already caused them too much suffering. And so it is only right that I turned my back on the one person I needed more than Japan needed me. And it is only right that she did not ask me to stay. It is only right that even then, there, in my home, with all the people I love, she did not allow me to be selfish.

I began to walk back the way I came. My footsteps became louder. Rougher. Harsher.

_Damn her for not asking me to stay._

A twig snapped underneath my feet.

_Damn her for not being selfish._

A squirrel scurried away in fright.

_Damn her for not allowing me to be selfish._

A wildflower was crushed as I walked all over it.

 _Damn me… damn_ me… _for wanting to be._

The water sloshed loudly against the wooden bucket as I headed back to my master's hut. The weight of the sword by my side felt heavier than ever.

* * *

Everything was red. Everywhere I look, everything I once saw as beautiful and peaceful was painted in red.

I always hated this time of the day. While most people would enjoy watching sunsets, I detested it. I could never understand what it was about sunsets that people actually looked forward to. It signals the end of the day and ushers in the silence of the night – with all its shadows and omens and coldness and loneliness. During the days when I worked in the fields, a sunset meant the beginning of another night of hunger and going back to a shabby hut where wailing siblings and ailing parents waited. During the days of the Bakumatsu, a sunset meant the beginning of another night of black envelopes and bloody corpses on the streets. And during my days of wandering, a sunset meant the beginning of another night of sleeping on cold ground without a roof overhead and with only wild animals for company.

I always hated this time of the day. Because sunsets signal the coming of the night. And I hated the nights even more.

Silence settled between us as I stared unseeingly into the distance. The sun had settled haughtily on the horizon and burst into a ball of fire, and the once pure blue heavens and waters was doused in liquid flames, as if fire's destructive nature wasn't enough on earth. The once lively green leaves turned a sickening mixture of brown and copper that made the trees and plants look withered and burnt. And even the people aren't spared from the sun's unsettling blanket of red. At a certain angle, the once porcelain white skin of the Japanese seemed to turn into a strange blend of pink and yellow, the way they would look like if they were sick – or if they were dying.

I understand now, a little, how she could love it. But I could never understand what she found so beautiful in that red kimono.

I closed my eyes and tried to shut it all out. But in a day as bright as today, I could clearly see the light through my eyelids. Even they were colored red.

I sighed.

"What did it feel?"

I opened my eyes and looked at her questioningly. In the shade of the tall oak tree, the color of the kimono she wore darkened almost to that of blood.

She blinked when she realized I was staring and, following my gaze, she glanced down at herself. She smiled briefly – and a little sadly. "You said that I should have considered this kimono's feelings when I refused to buy it." She raised her head to face me again. "Why, Kenshin? What do you think it felt?"

In the shade of the tall oak tree, her skin looked deathly white against her blood red kimono.

She was surprised when I suddenly stood up. I could feel her gaze following me curiously as I slowly took a few steps forward until I could see the outline of my reflection on the flaming river. I saw clearly the way my eyes stared back at me. They were tired eyes. But they were also hard eyes. Defiant. Hurt. And… a little angry.

"Why did it have to have a purpose?"

My back was still facing her when I spoke. I could almost imagine her blinking in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

My reflection talked back to me as I continued. "Kaoru-dono said that she learned from her mother that a work of art should be judged by the heart of the artist who made it. That was why Kaoru-dono thought that the artist created that kimono for a much higher purpose other than to be owned by Kaoru-dono. Did sessha get that right?"

The doubt had crept back to her voice. "Well… yes, that's right…"

My hands curled into fists. "But when the artist created that kimono… did he really have a purpose in mind?"

The wind picked up slightly, and a noticeable drop in temperature forewarned a coming night chill.

"Kenshin." A rustling sound behind me told me she had slowly stood up as well. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"What if the artist created that kimono for no reason at all? What if the kimono is just simply that? And even if it  _does_ have a purpose…"

I looked at her over my shoulder. Her eyes widened.

"Why can't a kimono be  _just_ a kimono?"

A strong gust of wind suddenly blew our hair against our faces. The strands settled back against our cheeks and shoulders as the air died down, but our gazes never left each other's faces. For what seemed like the longest time, our eyes – her wide blue ones surprised, my narrowed violet ones challenging – were locked upon each other.

"Th-That…" she finally managed to say. "That was the same thing my mother told me." She slowly shook her head. "But… I don't understand, Kenshin. I really don't."

I slowly returned my gaze to the river.

"If the artist created that kimono for a much higher purpose…"

My tired eyes looked angry.

"How come no one else wanted it?"

But they also looked a little sad.

"Kenshin…"

"Two years is a long time. Didn't Kaoru-dono ever wonder why no one else bought that kimono since she saw it?"

She remained silent, but the soft crunching of the grass gave her away. She was stepping closer to me.

"Kaoru-dono heard what the old lady who owned the shop told her. No one else wanted that kimono."

" _For the past ten years, I have fought to keep myself from becoming Battousai."_

"They said that it was too expensive, and the color was too exotic."

" _However, that battle with Saitou really taught me something._ "

"The price was too high for something so strange."

" _Deep within me, there is a vicious manslayer who will never change._ "

There was awe in her voice when she spoke. "You remember everything I told you?"

" _But you were able to go back to normal soon afterwards!"_

I closed my eyes. "Yes."

" _No matter how close you get to the Battousai, you are yourself, Kenshin!"_

"Sessha remembers everything."

" _A rurouni who doesn't kill…"_

She laughed softly. "But that's because all those other customers are idiots. They don't know a beautiful piece of work when they see one."

I whirled around to face her angrily. "But that's precisely the point!"

Startled, she unconsciously took a step back, her hand over her heart. "K-Kenshin?"

"You were the only one who saw beauty in that kimono! You were the only one who saw something special in it! You were the only one who thought it was worth having, worth  _keeping_! You were probably even the only one who noticed it  _exists_!  _Kaoru-dono—_!"

I quickly turned my back to her and scrunched my eyes shut. There was a familiar prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I wasn't worried. My tired eyes were used to holding back tears anyway.

"Kaoru-dono…" I whispered. "…was the only one who ever wanted it. And she let it go."

Behind me, she was silent and still. Not even a rustling of cloth or a crunching of the grass to indicate a movement from her. Even her aura was unreadable.

My fists tightened and trembled. Maybe she understands now. Maybe she understands why no one else wanted what she alone found so beautiful.

"It must've been lonely," I said quietly. I slowly opened my eyes and saw my reflection talking to me again. "Up in that dark and cold and dusty shelf, hidden among fabrics of more normal and more cheerful colors… that kimono must've felt lonely."

In the distance, I could hear happy noises of children playing in the afternoon sun. I could hear parents calling their children to dinner, and I could hear footsteps running towards the sounds of these voices. Welcome, familiar sounds of home.

"Day after day, it must have watched how people would pick another kimono over it. It must have wondered why no one would even considering buying it. It must have wondered if there was something wrong with it." I chuckled bitterly. "It must have wondered if the artist knew that creating it was a mistake in the first place."

"Kenshin…"

"Then this little girl came into the shop. And for the first time… someone actually  _looked_ at that kimono. Not with disgust or contempt, but strangely, with wonder and admiration. And the kimono was amazed that even with so many colorful fabrics around the shop, this little girl was drawn to this unwanted red kimono, hidden in that dark and cold and lonely shelf."

The flames on the water were disappearing. Rays of red and orange light still shot out from the horizon, but the sun can now hardly be seen as it slid slowly downwards, behind tall trees and rooftops.

"Then the kimono was even more amazed when the little girl kept coming back for it. And she would take no other kimono, wouldn't even  _look_ at another kimono. And for the first time, the kimono felt a ray of hope. It had been in the darkness for so long. Here, now, was a little girl who might finally let it out into the sun, where it could finally experience the world it used to only watch through stained glass windows. "

I tilted my head back and raised my gaze to the sky. The edges were already tinged with purple and gray. Night was coming.

"The day came when the little girl finally had the kimono in her hands. They were good hands – warm and soft and gentle. And then…"

I closed my eyes and let my head drop back down.

"…the little girl just let it go." I gazed at the river through half-lidded eyes. In the dying light, I couldn't tell anymore whether my reflection looked more like a man or a monster. "And the kimono doesn't understand. How could the little girl just let it go back to the darkness it wanted to leave behind?"

The temperature dropped a few notches lower. I shivered.

"She felt unworthy."

Startled, my eyes snapped open when she spoke. "What?"

"The little girl felt unworthy of the kimono," she continued quietly. "She believes that she won't be the only one who will see the value of that kimono. It's impossible that no one else will see how special and beautiful it is. And she believes that it would serve a better purpose other than to be owned by her."

"But what about its worth?"

It was small and almost inaudible, but I heard her surprised gasp nonetheless.

"It might be valuable to someone else. And perhaps it does have a higher purpose. But when that purpose is met, and its value is finally exhausted, it will only be put away once again, kept in a dark shelf or closet until someone else finds another use for it."

The air was getting colder. I could sense that she was shivering too.

"But that is not what a kimono is worth." I looked at my reflection in the river. And somehow, when I curled the corners of my lips, I saw how my tired eyes are also capable of smiling. "A kimono's worth is to be worn. To be seen. Therefore, it has to owned. And that's all the kimono ever wanted."

It was faint, obscured by the palette of colors still spiraling from the setting sun, but at one corner of the sky, an outline of the moon started to appear.

"It just wanted to be wanted."

And the emerging silver-blue ring of moonlight promised that the coming night wouldn't be as dark and gray as it usually was.

"Because to be as beautiful as it is meant to be, the kimono has to be taken care of."

The dusk air promised a cold night ahead. Yet the setting sun still offered warmth while it still can.

"It has to be… loved."

Gentle fingers touched my shoulder. I jumped in surprise. I never even sensed her coming up behind me.

"Kenshin…" she said softly, her voice a tender caress near my ear. "This isn't only about the kimono, is it?"

I turned my head towards her, and with our faces only inches away from each other, I found myself gazing straight into her eyes. I never noticed it before, but her eyes… they looked tired as well.

"No," I whispered. "No, it's not."

* * *

Water splashed over the bucket and onto the ground as I abruptly stopped at the foot of the hill. I stared at the path that would lead me back to my master's hut. I felt strange knowing that he is waiting – that  _she_  is waiting. Two different embodiments of two different homes I left behind together under the same roof.

Both of them did not stop me from leaving. One of them, however, followed me.

I started walking through the uphill path, more slowly this time. My mind was whirling, confused and at a loss at what to do.

I don't understand. She didn't stop me from leaving, she didn't even ask me to stay, yet she chose to follow me and now she's here. And she's not alone too. Misao is here, Yahiko is here, and knowing how stubborn he is and how he won't listen to anything I'd tell him anyway, I bet Sanosuke is probably on his way here too. All of them will now be directly in the line of fire when Shishio attacks. And now this battle is going to be even more troublesome.

I gripped the bucket tighter. This is precisely why I left them all behind. I left them because I don't want to selfishly stay and put them in danger. I left them because I don't want to selfishly stay and be happy with them while I turn my back on my people whose happiness will be destroyed by Shishio, a ghost from a turbulent past that  _I_  helped create. I left them because… because I  _am_ selfish. I want them around, I  _need_ them around, and I'd rather leave them than lose them completely.

I ground my teeth together in frustration. Those  _idiots_! If they knew how much they really meant to me, and if they really care that much for me, then the least they could do for me is to stay  _alive_ for me! They should have just protected themselves by staying  _home_! They're being selfish by following me here!

I stopped in my tracks. My eyes widened.

They're… being selfish… by following me here.

They didn't come here to fight. And even if it was somehow the real reason, it wasn't the  _primary_ reason. If it was patriotism or nationalism or simply a love for our country and our people, they could fight in another way – and each in their own different homes. Sanosuke and Yahiko – and yes, I believe, even  _she_  – could protect Tokyo if they stayed. Now that I think about it, Tokyo's in even more danger than Kyoto. This is where Shishio might be, but Tokyo is slowly becoming the new capital of the country. It's the perfect target, and she and Sanosuke and Yahiko, they  _should_ have stayed to protect it. And Misao, she could enlist Okina's help and they could mobilize the Oniwanbanshuu and protect Kyoto from the inside. If they were really fighting for unselfish reasons, then they have absolutely no good reason for coming here.

Except… except perhaps… if they were fighting for a selfish reason.

I swallowed. I forcibly lifted my feet off the ground and walked the last few remaining steps towards my master's hut.

" _If you have to leave then leave! But if you're leaving, at least tell me your name."_

And that selfish reason…

" _Battousai was the name of the patriot a long time ago. But then I guess you wouldn't want to tell me your real name…"_

Just might be…

" _Kenshin. Himura Kenshin. That's my name now."_

Both Yahiko and Misao turned to me as I finally appeared in the doorway. And as I drew nearer, their expressions grew wary – annoyed, angry and afraid all at once.  _Expectant._

 _She's here_ , their eyes seem to tell me.  _She's_   _here -_ Misao's eyebrows creased, and Yahiko's hands curled into fists -  _and_ we're  _here, so why are you ignoring us?_

_"I'm a little tired of traveling."_

_Don't we matter?_ Misao pressed her lips together, and Yahiko's fists tightened.  _Doesn't_ she  _matter?_

_"A rurouni never knows where he's going or for how long."_

_Because you do._ Misao's eyes softened, and Yahiko lowered his gaze. _And that's why we're here._

 _That's why_ she's _here._

_"But if you don't mind that…"_

My master smirked at me. And for some reason, he had a knowing look in his eyes as he glanced from me to her and back. 

_"I'll stay with you a while."_

And  _she_ … she was sitting on the floor in front of him, silent and unmoving.

She didn't ask me to stay.

" _I never said I wanted Battousai to stay!"_

But she never said she didn't want to be with me.

"… _I want the rurouni."_

She followed me. She might want to fight with me for our country, she might want to ask me to come home to Tokyo with her, with all of them, but somehow, I now know the real reason why she followed me – just as she knew the real reason why I came to her that evening of May 14th.

She followed me because she simply wanted to see me.

She… was being  _selfish._


End file.
